Wicked Highland Lords: Over 1100 pages of Scottish Regency Romance

by Tarah Scott

  He retrieved the tartan he’d tucked in a saddlebag and spread it across the ground. “Shall we rest for a bit?”

  “Absolutely. It is too lovely a day to hurry, do you not agree?”

  “I agree wholeheartedly.”

  He took her hand while she lowered herself onto the blanket, then sat down beside her. “That is a lovely riding habit you are wearing,” he said.

  “Your sister was kind enough to loan it to me.”

  “You should have purchased more clothes during our visit to Belfast,” he said. “But never mind, you can easily buy any essentials in Tobermory, or have my mother’s dressmaker make you anything you like.” Erroll stretched out onto his side and levered himself onto an elbow.

  “I will, thank you, my lord.”

  “’My lord’? Have I fallen in your esteem since last night?”

  She looked sharply at him. “My lord, I—”

  “I see I shall have to redeem myself.”

  Erroll grasped her arm, pulled her down, and rolled onto her.

  *****

  Eve’s body melted when her husband’s warm chest pressed against her breasts. She spread her legs enough for him to settle between her thighs and flushed warm when his engorged member dug into her belly. He covered her mouth with his. For an instant, memory flashed of him entering the ballroom from the privacy of the balcony, a beautiful woman on his arm, then Eve did exactly as she had last night and wrapped her arms around his neck. She tangled her tongue with his and he groaned with deep, rich desire.

  She plunged the fingers of one hand through his thick hair. He kissed his way along her cheek to her neck, then pushed up and made quick work of the buttons on the pelisse. He nearly tore the last button free, then covered a breast with his palm and kissed her again. She arched into his warm hand, her body already aching with desire.

  Wanting him so badly last night had startled her. He’d kindled her passions, but she hadn’t realized the depths to which she could need him. Was this love? He stroked the breast, his fingers grazing the sensitive nipple and sending a jolt straight to her sex. She wanted him inside her. Eve slipped her arms beneath his, flattened her palms on his back, and slid them down over the firm curve of his buttocks. When she squeezed and arched into his erection he shuddered.

  “Eve, if you keep this up, I’m liable to embarrass myself.”

  “As long as you embarrass yourself while you’re inside me, I will be satisfied.”

  He bolted up and stared down at her. “You are cheeky, Wife.”

  A tremor rippled through her at the name of wife. She squeezed his buttocks again. “Am I too bold, my lord?”

  “Eve.”

  Her name came out as a growl that sent a flush of warmth through her. Her heart beat fast and before her embarrassment could censure her impulses, she wrapped one leg around his hip. Eve jammed a hand between them, cupped his erection, and massaged. He hissed a breath and thrust into her palm. She massaged faster. He muttered something unintelligible, then sat upright so quickly he broke free of her hold. He undid the falls on his breeches, then yanked up her skirt.

  “Not very eloquent, madam, but you did say as long as I was inside you when I embarrassed myself you would be satisfied. You shall have your wish.”

  He levered himself over her and drove inside her channel with one powerful stroke. Eve cried out. His eyes remained locked with hers as he thrust over and over. Muscles in his arms corded as he drove deeper. She grasped his arms and brought her knees up to meet him thrust for thrust. He growled and pumped faster.

  Need tightened her sex and she thought she would go mad before reaching for her release. Over and over, he thrust until a fire burned inside her. Then she burst apart. Hot moisture gushed from her core on a rush of pleasure so intense it swamped her mind in gray. Eve called out his name as he collapsed on top of her. She gulped air. Holy God, she’d had no idea she could feel this way.

  He jammed his arms between her back and the blanket and hugged her so tight her breath caught. Another spasm rocked her and this time he captured her cry with his mouth. He suddenly went rigid, his breath hot on her ear, and a strange emotion flooded through her. A shudder went through him, then he went limp.

  Moments later, Eve became aware of her husband’s weight on top of her. He rolled off onto his back.

  “Madam, I have not forgotten myself so shamefully since I was nineteen. I hold you personally responsible.”

  “Me? Really?”

  He looked at her and grinned. “Who else?”

  The first of the ladies they visited received them with warmth, and Eve realized the marchioness had been right. Folks were curious about her. Mrs. Reid agreed to bake a dozen pies, and Erroll said he would purchase the supplies in Tobermory and have them delivered soon after.

  They visited three more ladies, each delighted to accept the work, and even more delighted, Eve thought, to meet her.

  They reached Tobermory, and her husband sought out a butcher, then met with a shopkeeper with a store large enough to supply all their needs. Erroll promised her tea at a small inn where he said the cook could rival any in London and, not long after, they settled in a private dining room of the inn with an array of foods spread out on the table, enough to feed a king.

  “I vow,” she said after taking the last bite of a piece of shortbread, “I will not be able to eat another thing for the duration of the party.”

  “Perhaps we should stop at the waterfall on the way home and work up another appetite.”

  “I doubt seeing the waterfall will—” Eve broke off, suddenly realizing his meaning. “Sir,” she said in a whisper, “you shouldn’t talk that way in public.”

  “You had better grow accustomed to it, madam. Folks are likely to figure out what we’re up to when we stay locked in our bedchambers.”

  Her stomach felt like jelly. Would she always feel this way with him?

  The front door banged open in the hallway and a man declared, “I know he’s here. Where are ye, Rushton?”

  Several booted feet approached.

  “Are you sure, Jean?” said another man.

  “Prepare yourself, madam,” the earl said. “More relatives are about to descend upon us.”

  “Aye,” the first man replied, and three large, kilted men appeared in the doorway. “There,” the oldest said. “Phillip was right.”

  Lord Rushton stood as the three men approached. When they reached him, the eldest pulled him into a bear hug and the other two followed suit.

  “That’s the wife,” the eldest said. “What is a pretty thing like you doing married to a scoundrel like this?”

  Before Eve could react, he seized her arm and pulled her up and into his bear-like warmth. Strong fingers grasped her arm.

  “Jean,” Lord Rushton said, and gently freed her from the big man’s embrace, “at least let me introduce the lady before you maul her.”

  “You’ve been in England too long, lad,” the man said. “I just introduced myself.”

  “Eve, I would like to present my cousin Jean, and his son.” The earl nodded to the young man on Jean’s left. The boy nodded. “And this is Ferguson and his nephew Boyd.” He motioned to the young man on Jean’s right. “Gentlemen, my wife, Lady Rushton.”

  “Lady Rushton my arse,” Jean burst out. “Eve, ye said.” He looked at the earl. “We have no’ had a chance to make it to Ravenhall. We had a bunch of randy rams early last autumn that got the ewes with babes. Damn things. So many lambs were born early this year.”

  “What have you been feeding them?” the earl asked.

  Jean laughed heartily. “I imagine it was all the young ewes parading about that got them interested. They broke down the gate and had a dandy time with the ladies.”

  “A female does have that effect on males.”

  Eve suddenly realized he was referring as much to her as he was to the sheep and blurted, “Good Lord!”

  “He meant it as a compliment, lass,” Jean said.

&nbs
p; Eve’s mouth fell open.

  “I think she’s speechless,” Jean said.

  “A rare state, I assure you,” the earl remarked.

  Jean grunted. “I imagine so.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Eve said.

  “I didna’ mean anything by it,” Jean said, unruffled. “You are a woman, after all.”

  Eve looked at the earl. “You did warn me about your relatives.”

  “Did it do any good?” Jean asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I was unprepared.”

  “That is only because you don’t know us,” he said. “A month or two and you will be one of us.”

  Lord Rushton shuddered. “You will scare her away, Jean.”

  Jean raked his gaze down her body. “I dinna’ think so. She looks to be of sturdy stock.”

  “You are not the first to point that out,” Lord Rushton said.

  “What?” Eve said. “Who said I was of sturdy stock? Was that my father? Good Lord, that sounds like something he would say.”

  “A father knows,” Jean said sagely.

  Lord Rushton’s brow shot up. “Is that how you feel about Felicity?”

  “There’s none sturdier than my daughter.”

  “She must be nineteen now,” the earl said. “Is she married yet?”

  Jean’s expression darkened. “There have been some jackals sniffing around, but I chased the beasts off.”

  “I see,” Eve said. “She is sturdy, but you must protect her.”

  Jean shrugged, and said, “Aye,” and the other men—Lord Rushton included—murmured agreement. “You will see for yourself,” he added.

  “I look forward to meeting her,” Eve said.

  “And I look forward to meeting your first babe the beginning of next year.”

  Eve’s insides warmed at the thought of a child raised amongst such a warm community. “He—or she—will be pleased to meet you, as well,” she said.

  “This exerts a great deal of pressure on me,” Lord Rushton said.

  “Not up to the challenge, lad?” Jean said, then addressed Eve, “Perhaps ye married beneath yourself. If you find Erroll isn’t up to the task, I will be glad to—”

  “That will be enough,” the earl said. “I believe I have things well in hand.”

  “You had better,” Jean said. “Ravenhall is a short twenty minute ride for me. I can be there and accommodate before you know it.”

  “I would know it,” Lord Rushton replied dryly, then looked at her. “I believe I should whisk you away before it’s too late.”

  Jean laughed loudly and slapped him on the back. “It’s too late already, ye poor bastard. You’re married.”

  *****

  Eve stared in stunned silence at the letter she held. Had she realized the letter wasn’t meant for her, she wouldn’t have read it. But the envelope had been mixed amongst the RSVPs and notes of congratulations the marchioness had asked her to read and answer.

  The letter was addressed to Lord Rushton from the Honorable George Wiggins, Esquire. The note was straightforward. The attorney had paid the sum of two thousand pounds to redeem Lady Greenwood’s emeralds from a pawnbroker in London. The note ended with:

  Per your direction, I had the jewels discreetly returned to Lady Greenwood. She asked me to pass on a note to you, which I have included in this communication.

  Eve shifted her gaze to the small envelope sitting on the secretary. What did Lady Greenwood have to say to her husband? She picked it up and a hint of expensive perfume wafted up to her. Eve broke the seal.

  Then pulled the note out and read.

  My darling Erroll,

  You may lay to rest your concerns regarding my husband. Henry left Town this very day, which means I am free!

  Thank you for redeeming my jewels. You are wrong. You are kind—the kindest man in the world. I will thank you properly when you return (just the way you like it), as I did in Manchester. I am practically giddy with the memory. No worries, I will be good until you return. Then, I shall be very bad.

  Yours,

  Laura

  Eve reread the words just as I did in Manchester.

  Lord Rushton told her that the rumors concerning Lady Greenwood weren’t true.

  She refolded the letter, placed it back in its envelope along with the letter from the attorney, then set it on the secretary and folded her hands in her lap. Eve closed her eyes against the pain, but a picture rose of his powerful body pounding into Lady Greenwood’s as it had hers only hours ago at the waterfall.

  She choked back a sob and snapped open her eyes, swiping at the corners to stop the tears. What reason had she to be hurt? Just because he seemed to have lost his mind with need when he made love to her didn’t mean he cared for her. He had the ability to make her feel like the only woman in the world when he touched her. What more could a wife ask for?

  They hadn’t stopped on the way home as he’d joked about doing. The hour had grown late, and he said it was better if they reached Ravenhall before his family sent out a search party. He had seemed to be in the same pleasant mood he’d been all day, but she now wondered if the talk of children when they’d joked with his relatives had dampened his spirits.

  At a knock on the door, Eve jerked. She snatched the letter and shoved it beneath the other notes on the tray, then called, “Come in.”

  The door opened and the marchioness entered. Panic froze Eve in place. Surely the older woman would realize something was wrong. Eve smiled and rose as she neared.

  “How wonderful to see you, ma’am.” Eve curtsied.

  “No curtsies in private, Eve. You are family.” She approached. “Forgive the intrusion.”

  “You are never an intrusion,” Eve said.

  The marchioness motioned toward the door she had entered through. “Your father and sister, along with Lord Somerset, are waiting in the sitting room.”

  Eve startled. “Here, in our suite?”

  “Yes. Your father wishes to speak with you and your sister. He asked me to join them.”

  “Is everything all right?” Eve started forward with the marchioness alongside.

  Eve paused for her to enter the sitting room first, then followed. Grace sat on the couch. Lord Somerset and her father stood.

  “Is something wrong?” Eve asked her father.

  “No, but I wanted you to hear what I have to say, along with your sister.”

  She glanced at Grace, who shrugged.

  “Lady Rushton,” he said, “if you and Eve would kindly sit, please.” They joined Grace on the couch, and he clasped his hands behind his back and looked at his youngest daughter. “Grace, Lord Somerset has offered for your hand in marriage.”

  Grace’s eyes widened. “What? But I do not want to marry him.”

  “It is marriage or a convent.”

  “But why?”

  “Did you think you could escape the consequences of your role in kidnapping Lord Rushton?” he asked.

  “Rubbish. There is no harm to my reputation. I need not do either.”

  “It is one or the other,” he said in a voice so cold a chill snaked down Eve’s back.

  Grace defiantly shook her head. “I will not marry him.”

  “You prefer a convent?” he demanded.

  “I will not enter a convent, either.”

  “You will.”

  “You cannot make me.”

  His mouth thinned. “This is my fault. I indulged you. Have you no sense?”

  “He is a viscount. I intend to marry a marquess or a duke.”

  Pain crossed Lord Somerset’s face and Eve’s heart twisted.

  “This is your mother’s doing,” their father said. “She has filled your head with ridiculous notions.”

  “Eve married an earl who will one day be a marquess. If she can do it, so can I.”

  “There will not be a repeat of this mess,” their father snapped.

  “Grace,” Eve quickly said, “you must have known this would happen.” Eve coul
d only wonder that she hadn’t given it further thought herself, but that, she realized, had to do with the dark haired earl she’d married.

  “I did not,” Grace said. “Forgive me, Lord Somerset, I mean no disrespect, but we will not suit. Say what you will, Papa. I will not marry him.”

  “Then I will make arrangement for a convent.”

  She snorted. “To what end?”

  “I cannot say,” he replied. “Perhaps they can teach you what I could not.”

  “Forgive me for interrupting, Lord Tolland,” the marchioness said. “I understand your concern, but perhaps this is just a bit of a shock for your daughter. True, she is as guilty as Rush and Eve for the fix the girls were in, but she is young, and probably didn’t realize the real dangers of their scheme. It might be that she needs a little time to consider Lord Somerset’s offer.”

  “Somerset and I have worked out the particulars of the marriage contract,” their father said.

  “Contract?” Grace exploded.

  “I am speaking of something more delicate,” the marchioness cut in. “Grace needs to better understand the man who petitions for her hand. I gather this offer is quite unexpected. Is that right, my dear?” Lady Rushton looked at her.

  “It is,” she replied, “but I will not marry him in any case.”

  “A lady does not refuse a gentleman without having heard his offer of marriage. You must keep in mind that your father has your best interests at heart, and therefore give Lord Somerset an opportunity to present himself.”

  Grace hesitated, then acquiesced with a stiff nod.

  Lady Rushton patted her hand. “Now then, perhaps you should take a little time for yourself. We shall have tea in a bit. The pink parlor. That is a favorite of yours, is it not?”

  “It is a lovely room, ma’am.”

  “Fine, then. We shall all adjourn there later with some of our guests. We cannot forget this is Erroll and Eve’s wedding party.”

  Eve’s father bowed. “You are most kind, Lady Rushton.”

  “Think nothing of it. I was young once and haven’t forgotten the surprise of an unexpected marriage contract.”

  “Grace,” their father said, “perhaps you will allow Lord Somerset to escort you back to your chambers. I will come along.”